The Thin Red Line
by Tomaz
Summary: I didn't qualify for a regional starting Pokemon or a Pokedex. And after sulking at home for two weeks, I finally decided that I wouldn't let that stop me.
1. Chapter 1,1: A Journal for the Jaded

So I realised that my story was all over the place and the grammar was horrible. So this is the rewritten chapters.

Hopefully, I won't need to make more author's notes, so please enjoy the read.

* * *

><p><strong>The Thin Red Line<strong>

**Chapter 1.1: A Journal for the Jaded**

So, this is my first entry.

Not to sound clichéd or anything, but ever so often, standing boldly apart from the dull tedium that is everyday life, there are days like this. This sort of day is, in my opinion, a little bit like a huge clump of manure that doesn't come apart for easily (for spreading on Ma's flower beds). My reasons for using this analogy is this, these sort of days take way too much effort for the reward and as a result, you don't forget them easily.

Like last manure clod that was larger than my head. I swear that if I sniff at my hands carefully enough, I'm quite sure I can still smell it.

And tooday, would, in my opinion a perfect example of this sort of thing.

One day, in a long fortnight's worth of such days. Perhaps I'm a tiny bit depressed, which ought to be understandable, seeing my current circumstances which I shall elaborate on later. Though, Ma. being Ma, is very unsympathetic to my plight.

Here's what happened.

So, I was sleeping rather peacefully, when something hit my door with an almighty crash and jolted me from that blissful state of slumber that you can get only by sleeping past 9 am in the morning, right into cold, cruel reality. It's obviously Ma, of course, and as of today, I've been subject to over a decade's worth of such unique awakenings.

I'm quite sure that no one my age has bought and replaced three doors for their bedrooms.

'Get your breakfast!' Ma called, with a great enough volume to shake the window panes in their brackets. 'It won't stay warm much longer!'

I noted the underlying tone of _'get your sorry behind downstairs, NOW_', from what she said above, and left the warm sheets reluctantly to step out into Sinnoh's lovely climate (do note the sarcasm). A climate so foul that it defies the heating's valiant efforts to keep the place warm. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, it doesn't matter. Sinnoh's always miserably cold.

One thing I'd like to know, is where all the sunny days in the Pokemon drama's Sinnoh arc came from. I'd say that the theories that the whole thing was filmed in-studio isn't too far off from the truth.

I endured the chilling tap water, long enough to wash my face before I head downstairs. Ma usually demands that I clean up the room before I do anything else, but I decided that I would get something to fill my stomach first. Either way, I was feeling rather apathetic towards Ma at the moment and felt the need to show a tiny bit of defiance.

'Morning Ma,' I say as I walk into the kitchen, wincing as I stepped onto the ice cold ceramic tiling.

'Morning dear,' Ma answers as she pointed towards a bowl of steaming porridge. 'Eat up now, before it gets cold.' She ordered. 'It's your birthday and I won't have you collapsing from hunger.'

'Yes Ma.' I answer, before sitting down at my place. Ma of course, is dressed lightly in one of her usual casual tee-shirts with strange slogans on them – and slacks. She's a true Sinnoh born and bred and I suppose this sort of temperature is warm enough for her. Da's from Kanto though so I would say that I take more after him, since I can't stand the cold.

That doesn't convince Ma to turn up the heating though. No matter how much I protest.

I would say that all the sweet, gentle mothers, all of whom are conveniently friends to all living things and have no trouble turning up the thermostat have gone to work for the network instead, because I swear, I only ever see them on television.

Ma isn't any of those things. She's strong willed with a vocal volume to match. She has been through the Sinnoh and Hoenn Leagues in the past, devastating her way through the lists all the way to the elite four. Although she never made league champion, I'm sure that the trainers of those bloody Leagues breathed a collective sigh of relief when she finally retired to go back to school and eventually, settle down with Da and to have me of course.

Ma's brand of love is a bit like the fish liver oil we get in Sinnoh. Tastes absolutely foul, but its chock full of antioxidants and omega three fatty acids and other rubbish like that.

Still, I'd bet that Da's found it incredibly '_tsundere_' or something along those lines.

Still, sometimes, just sometimes, I would like to get pampered by the mother's you see in those drama serials. But, life and reality isn't so nice to little old me. For example, if life were anything like a live action drama, Ma would have gotten me a pokemon instead. But this is reality and reality says I get a journal instead. it was wrapped up, right next to the bowl of porridge.

So, thanks Ma, you can read the situation so "well".

Not to badmouth Ma or anything. It's a nice journal, really. It's quite thick and has a very handsome leather binding and a little strap where you stick a pen. I presume its for me to record the memoirs of my trainers journey, which, I might add, should have begun over two weeks ago if not for my little situation.

Which I'll elaborate on here.

I (and a friend who is now estranged) had imagined the beginning of our trainer's journey as something like this:

Waking up to a bright sunny day at the crack of dawn, just like the episodes of that Pokemon drama _she_ likes to watch so much. Then you run down to the regional professor's lab to pick up your regional starter. Then comes the part where you battle your rival and inevitably win, which cues the lab to start cheering whilst you frolic off into the sunshine holding hands with a Piplup or something while an invisible narrator wonders what adventures are in store for you.

Sounds heady doesn't it?

Adventure! Friendship! Unrealistically contrived relationships!

Capturing non-existent legendary pokemon! Beating incredibly obvious criminal organizations vastly more powerful than you are, despite the improbability! Trouncing the League Champion!

Note that the last point is my goal. Was my goal.

Of course I would never really think life was like that, but a small part of me had hoped that for one day, it would be...

But then reality got in the way.

Of course it didn't turn out the way I had envisioned it. I didn't even get the start I wanted, or even a start at all. My romantic notions of a trainer's journey were dashed.

And here's why.

Watch enough of these pokemon drama serials and you might begin to believe that these Professors are actually running charitable organizations. They sit in an air conditioned lab all day with an inexhaustible supply of regional starting pokemon and then they dole them out to every dumb kid that crosses their path in exchange for some paltry research with a pokedex.

It's like being paid in solid gold bars to rake leaves.

But reality's not like that. Like I've mentioned many times so far.

Regional starters are rare, as in very rare in the worth their weight in gold kind of rare. Big sis, Professor Yew says that they're only bred in captivity and even then all methods of increasing their fertility have failed. Its probably true, because she's a professor after all, a gloomy professor but one none the less. Anyway to surmise, the regional starters are rare, and as a result, they only hand them out to the best – which means the best of the new generation of trainers.

To get one you have to apply though your school, and then they put you through a shit load of aptitude tests (which you have to pay for, the cheap bastards) and then through an advanced version of the basic trainer's package(which you also have to pay for). And finally, if you're lucky you're picked and you get the honour of paying a ludicrous sum of money for one of the damned things.

I thought that I would be that special one.

I mean, my school results were well above average and my aptitude test said I had great potential. I managed to get the the bidoof the course provided to play dead and roll over and to tackle the target dummy. I would say that studying is my strong point, so I found the basic theory test to be laughably simple and then later, the advanced theory to be barely more difficult. Even now, I am still very sure that I did much better in the trainer's package than all of the rest.

But, as the holidays began and the selection results came through the mail, I was in for a surprise.

I hadn't been chosen.

But _she_ had.

_She_ got a VIP ticket to Professor Rowan's lab down in Sandgem and when she got there, a regional starter as well. And by now with two weeks into her journey probably more pokemon than I have fingers.

I got a complementary pokemon association cap.

Which was strange, because _she_ didn't even bother to take the test at all. Yet she got the regional starter.

So now, there's nothing much I can say, except this:

Well, f-damn you, you incompetent, corrupt, money grubbing Pokemon Association scumbags and your overrated, overpriced, inbred, regional starters. Since you snivelling lot obviously don't want a talented trainer, you can go rot in hell. (There are other words I want to use, but Ma might read this.)

Life isn't fair, is it?

So I'm really convinced that the only reason why _she _got picked is because her dad's filthy rich. Not Berlitz rich, but rich enough to own all the quarries surrounding the tiny town in Sinnoh we call home. Rich enough to tip the balance in his little girl's favour it seems.

What a maggot.

I am still quite bitter over this.

–

And so two weeks since the school holidays began, I'm still stuck at home with Ma who is convinced that I'm being overly sensitive. Then again, I didn't really expect Ma to take my side when I told her that the Pokemon Association was conspiring against the common trainer.

Ma said that I'm being a spoilt child over this, which I feel is kind of a bit of a hypocrisy, since she started out with of of those Chimchar regional starters.(It's with Da in Kanto now, probably enjoying the climate while I sit here and freeze). Going out and clubbing a Bidoof into submission doesn't feel right to me, because I hate the stupid pests with a passion.

So at Ma's urging (explicit orders, rather), I half convinced myself that starting with a starly wouldn't be so bad – if I could catch one. But my attempts were half hearted at best, and that starting with one of those pesky birds felt, well, beneath me. And after my last pokeball had been flung into the distance, missing the damned bird completely and bouncing into the storm drain, I slunk home in defeat and spent the last two weeks hiding in my room.

Ma had yelled at me for a bit, for wasting pokeballs and giving up too easily, but ironically even she gave up on that eventually.

And so while other trainers were staring their adventures into the world, I began my adventures on the internet.

I watched every season of the Pokemon Live Action drama, twice. The one _she_ liked to watch so much. And then, I discussed and argued about them on the forums. I went ga ga over , who plays the BEST PLATINA BERLITZ EVER and joined her online fan club, and then along with my fellow club members, I sent hate mail and spam to the studio when her role ended at the end of the Sinnoh Diamond, Pearl and Platinum arc.

I read up every bit of gossip the magazines and sites could offer. Poke-watchers, legendary-chasers, Cynthia-stalkers and Rocket-Out. Obvious lies and exaggerated rumours like how Mew supposedly liked to hide under trucks or that the Sinnoh Champion, Cynthia's garchomp was actually a death robot build as a bio-mechanical artificial humanoid that went wrong. I went through sightings of UFOs, flying miko and white dragons in the sky of Sinnoh till I got bored.

I beat every touhou game on insanity. I painted all the unpainted robot models Da had left lying around when he was younger. I read up on illegal pokeball modifications and I trolled the Ash Ketchum fan club forums; with a simple procedure of writing '_RedAsh_' and then sitting back to watch the flame war. (Why did they let this half wit act as Red anyway?)

I even hit a link called 'Red Facts'. I was fairly sick and annoyed with the septic tank that was _'Ash is love_' and _'AshXMisty/[insert girl here] for the win_,' and I found that it was something unusual. For one, it didn't have anything to do with Ketchum at all. In fact, it was practically a gem.

It amused me for a while, and kept me occupied for a good half hour at least. It was mostly as I had expected, something along the lines of ' _At night, children check their closets for the boogeyman, the boogeyman checks his closet for Captain Harlock and Captain Harlock checks his closet for Red_.' and also the constant presence of '_RedYou_, posted everywhere.

One post did catch my attention though. A picture of a younger Red standing by the roadside. But strangely, without pikachu or charizard, venusaur, and blastortoise. Not even pokeballs at his belt. Just a lone poliwhirl standing at his side.

The caption read, '_Red's starter is a poliwag.'Regional Starters are overrated._'

This of course, attracted comments of '_shopping_'', comments of '_butthurt much? Go back to your com-mons, loser_' and very many accusations of being an '_obvious fake, try harder newb_'. A few posts of '_Go watch the show before you post idiot, Red starts with a pikachu_' later and inevitably, a flame war broke out.

In my opinion, it was an obvious 'shop', pixilated and blurry, as if taken by an old camera.

Red, the youngest League Champion ever. Demolished the Kanto League at twelve and utterly raped the Jhoto League scarcely six months later. Most records at least show him sending out a Venusaur at least, and though there's no real documentation, the general consensus is that Red managed to obtain all three of Kanto's regional starters directly from the Association.

And why not? Someone with so much obvious talent would obviously have the first pick and if he were good enough... '_Pleeeeeeese, sir, Red, take these pokemon! And all my money! And my virginity!_' Or something along those lines.(Though, in hindsight, I should not have written that. Ma might see. But I don't want ugly cross-outs in my memoirs either. I'll decide later.)

I could imagine that perhaps Red was gifted enough to be sponsored with all three regional starters Then again, another theory was that Red had gotten a Pikachu off Professor Oak in Kanto. And then he had caught all the region starters by himself. I think one version of the show went with this plot?

But as much as the evidence state the contrary, the possibility that the Champion, Red could have begun with a humble Poliwag appealed to me immensely for some reason. But I was still apathetic.

I blame the internet.

–

And so that's why I was still sitting there this morning, two weeks into vacation, eating Ma's highly nutritious and highly tasteless porridge instead of adventuring around Sinnoh. Ma left the kitchen for a bit as I spooned the unidentifiable gruel into my mouth without much enthusiasm. She claims that all natural oats and grains goes into this porridge of hers, and I don't contest that claim. Rather, what I want to know is where all the taste went. On holiday in Hoenn, maybe.

I quickly ate the entire bowl, not because of any hunger or anything, but if I sat around for too long, Ma was liable to lay out an extra helping for me. But as I placed the bowl into the sink to clean, Ma returned, carrying a package.

'Dear,' Ma said. 'This came in the morning. It's for you.'

It was a package from Da, all the way in Kanto. His signature haphazard style of wrapping is still quite obvious to me, as I've received many gifts wrapped in this manner. Mummified under layers of newspapers, greaseproof paper and festive Christmas wrapping. I've even received a birthday present wrapped in wallpaper once.

This one was covered in coloured sequins and bits of tinsel. Probably because Da thought it'd be appropriate for the special occasion.

Ma passed it to me with an odd expression on her face and as for myself, I found that I didn't know what to say either. I found that it was heavier than I'd expected as I took it into my hands rattled it for a second. But its seemed fairly solid as there' wasn't much noise. It also was little damp and had a bit of a funny smell, but then again, all packages that endure Sinnoh's terrible weather end up like this.

I was excited enough but I didn't get a chance to open it just yet because Ma insisted on reading Da's letter first.

'It's courtesy,' she said. And that is that.

Most of Da's letter consists of his usual reports of his job in Kanto. That he misses us terribly and that he's lost his car keys and cell phone which explains why he hasn't called in the past week or so. And then mid way through the reading, Ma pauses, and begins to look worried. This catches my attention, because Ma is rarely worried.

'It says here, dear, that he's sent you a pokemon for your birthday.' Ma read finally.

My heart jumped in my chest and I found myself excited,to the point of nearly toppling off my chair suddenly. 'Did he say what kind?' I asked , a feeling of hope rising in my chest.

'He says that he's sent a pikachu.' Ma says as her eyes narrow, looking past me and staring suspiciously at the package.

I gave out a shout and grinned as I turned to Ma, but she doesn't look excited, or even happy. She looks worried, rather and she does not speak until after some thought. 'Dear,' She began, looking at me carefully. 'Was the package, by any chance moving? Even pokemon confined in pokeballs tend to rock about don't they...'

The feelings of elation turned to sudden horror as I stare at the strangely smelling unmoving package. I turned back to Ma.

'You know Da, he wouldn't do something like that right?" I said, but my heart wasn't in my words. 'Da wouldn't just stuff a pokemon into a box and ship it here would he? He's not _that_ absent minded...'

Ma doesn't answer. She knows Da better than I do.

So we both dropped everything and ripped the package open.

–

Ma and I worked frenziedly, tearing away at the wrapping and ribbons which much less enthusiasm than when I first got the package. Several things fall out, wrapped haphazardly in the layers of the package. A box of soggy pokeblock, which probably went rancid some way through its trip here, followed by an assortment of other items, probably caught in the wrapping without Da's notice. The car keys for example. These Ma pockets with a scowl.

But the bundle gets smaller and smaller, with no signs of pokemon, dead or alive. A mug, another pokemon association cap, and Da's cellphone turn up. But mercifully, still no pokemon, even as we get to the very core of the package, which took the shape of a huge block sheathed in old newspaper and tape.

But it was obviously not a pokemon, thankfully.

Or Ma would've gone berserk there and then swam to Kanto or something to strangle Da.

And I wrote it down one more time for emphasis.

I tore it open and two books and several magazines fell out. They're huge tomes with dull covers and professional lettering, both of them research texts by the look of it. The magazines were of a kanto print, several issues of 'Office Politics – Protect your back!' and one of 'Advancing your career at the expense of others – What your colleagues don't want you to know!'

And all of them addressed to a certain Professor Yew.

'That idiot.' Ma sighed and seated herself down on a chair next to me. 'I think he's sent your pokemon to the professor.' She said, and rubbed her temples with one hand.

'Ah' I say. That was all I could manage at that moment.

'I hope you got my genes.' She said, looking resigned. 'And I hope you get your father's temperament. Don't lose your temper as easily as your mother, kay? You'll die from high blood pressure.'

At the time I felt torn between immense relief and excitement. A pokemon to call my own, and a pikachu no less.

Or so I thought.

Because Da's absent-mindedness has a sort of way with interfering with reality, but rarely in a good way. And if I had known what I'd have gotten into at big sis Yew's place, I would have gone back to sleep instead.

–


	2. Chapter 1,2: The Panicked Professor

**The Thin Red Line**

**Chapter 1.2: The Panicked Professor**

–

As I said before, Da's absent-mindedness has caused quite a bit of trouble for Ma and I in the past, but I wasn't particularly concerned with it. After all, I would go to Professor Yew's place and everything would be all fine and dandy. This sort of mindset as it transpired, was rather a big mistake on my part, but I was happy and perhaps overly excited at the prospect of getting a pikachu just like Red, and so I was full of unwarranted optimism.

Completely unaware of what I would be throwing myself in a most idiotic manner into, I finished breakfast as quickly as I could, hurling Ma's orange juice down my throat as I made for the stairway. I would not be showing up at Professor Yew's place in pyjamas. Or Da for that matter, because I _was _going to make a video call to his office in Kanto to thank him personally, far away from the chaos that was to descend upon the house.

Not that I envied him or anything, because Ma was on his case.

Anyway, this whole event was started by an errand from Ma. (Like many other significant events in my life, now that I think about it.) Ma's always been there, prodding me in the direction she feels is the best. I sometimes wonder if she'll insist on following me on my trainer's journey if I decide to go?

Now that's a scary thought.

I could really imagine good old Ma actually being physically present when I inevitably do get to demolishing the elite four, standing in the spotlight and yelling instructions to me and things like, '_Now, remember to be polite to your opponent or I'll smack you.'_

On live television. She'd probably would do it too.

Right. Back to the more important subject at hand.

So as I said above, the whole crisis begins with an errand from Ma, nothing out of the ordinary. It was really nothing too bad actually, and in fact this time I'm actually willing to go for a change. Usually I would protest till Ma glares at me and then my sense of self preservation would kick in. But this time, like I mentioned before, I was more than a little excited to see this supposed pikachu that Da had sent as my birthday present.

If anyone knew how to handle it in this tiny town, it probably would be big sis, Professor Yew anyway, so I had not felt the need to worry.

Or so I thought, bursting with the afore mentioned optimism.

I was asking for it, wasn't I?

Anyway, the errand was a simple job. I was to deliver big sis's package of books and magazines to her and check if the Pokemon Da sent was even still alive. If it was, I was bring it back. _'And if it isn't, try to foist if off on Professor Yew, I don't want you touching it and we don't want it stinking up the place_.' Ma's wordings, not mine.

I don't bother calling her before I leave, mainly because of her poor track record of answering the phone. The only real way to get a chat with her is just to go over to her place instead. But thankfully it wasn't too far away. Considering the size of the town, a ten minute ride on my bike would get me there. In fact, if I wanted to, I could probably walk there and still make fairly good time. But I' was excited and not thinking very well and so I opted instead to jump on my bike, throw her packages into the basket and speed down to the lonesome cottage she calls home.

It's also her laboratory, if you could call it that.

I know that reality doesn't always conform to your expectations, but I've always thought that the Professor's lab ought to be a bit more professional looking, with data banks and analysis equipment and perhaps all that unnecessary piping, beakers of corrosive chemicals and cabling that all the professors in the live dramas have. And the piles notes and books of course. But Professor Yew's lab is rather different to my expectations – but not in a bad way though.

And there's Professor Yew as well. Unique in her own way, and a true example where reality may be stranger than fiction.

She's occasionally refereed to as Big Sis by me, and Professor Yew to the rest of the town. Or _That damned Professor Recluse_ when she doesn't do her share of the community work and skips the town council planning meetings. Sometimes, '_that Useless Airhead' _by Ma, if Ma's in a bad mood.

If one thing could describe Professor Yew, 'neat' would be what I would pick. Obsessively neat.

Neat to the point where I could get pocket money out of her by cutting the grass in her garden every week. Sometimes even twice a week if she had been in one of her flights of 'neatness'. And often, I would get free stationeries off her, because once the ink inside her pens falls below that level that the rest have, she just doesn't feel comfortable using it any more.

That's very good for me, because I haven't had to buy a pen in years.

Her house and her lab itself is nothing particularly outstanding. In fact, there's really nothing to distinguish it's exterior from the other scattered houses in town. I've been inside many times, and it is a modest place. The first floor' is the living area, the upper floor's her bedroom and the basemen's her lab. The lab's nothing much to speak of as well, having everything my school's lab would have, except for the library's worth of reference texts arranged on shelving against one side of the wall. But despite the humble furnishings, everything is dusted and swept and mopped and cleaned to perfection.

I would know. After all, I've been paid to clean it up many times and at a very good rate too. Exploitation huh?

But despite both Professor Yew and my efforts to keep it clean, the place's achieved a bad reputation since Professor Yew almost never comes out of the house at all. I think that perhaps good old big sis Yew finds the world a bit too messy for her.

So she's a NEAT. Get it? _NEET, neat_.

Or at least that's what I told Ma, as a joke. But she didn't laugh. But then again she's got no sense of humour. Amongst other things.

Or maybe I've just watched one too many of those bad stand up comedies over the past two weeks. The Kouki and Jun comedy skits (Or Lucas and Barry, depending on which skit.) are particularly punny. On second thought, disregard that.

Anyway, that should suffice as an introduction for Professor Yew.

–

Before I set off for the lab, Ma walked out to see me off, handing me some circulars to pass on to Professor Yew whilst I was at it. 'And make sure the professor actually reads them this time,' She orders, handing me an umbrella as well. 'Stay dry and be back by lunch.' she says.

I nodded and took off, pedalling with all I've got. Our house is on the slops of a hill and Professor's Yew's place is right on the other side, and so I have to sweat it out a bit. Not that I minded, actually as to my suprise, I actually felt a little better now that I was out of the house. Perhaps the meagre sunlight helped, as I had essentially shunned a fortnight's worth of day light as I moped around my room. And for a moment, I asked myself why I had avoided all _this. _

Cresting the hill provided me with a great view of the town, all its scattered and dispersed buildings set around the central hill and farms and pastures stretching into the misty horizon. But I don't bother to stop. It's cold and the overcast grey of the sky promised rain or hail.

Professor's Yew's place soon became visible, a red tiled cottage at the bottom of the descending slope, its boundary marked out clearly by a pristine hedgerow, which I had pruned only about a month ago. As I drew closer, with the chilling wind whipping at my face, I spotted a lone figure standing amidst a patch of dense vegetation off to one side of the garden.

That was Sebastian, of course. Professor Yew's loyal manservant-butler and gardener all-in-one combo package. You wouldn't expect someone like Sebastian to actually exist.

On days like these(Shocking isn't it? Not raining? _In my_ _Sinnoh_?) Sebasntian was wont to linger at his usual spot in the garden and relax in his own way, which involves pottering around in the garden. I suppose Professor Yew allowed him to plant whatever he wanted, so long as it maintained her definitions of 'neat' and 'tidy'. And as long as it didn't attract pests of course.

Sebastian was, and still is the very image of an old fashioned gentleman, with long white eyebrows and a particularly luxuriant moustache. Today, I found him to be no different, sedately moving between the rows of his beloved plants as he carried a watering can from plant to plant in one gnarled hand. He raised his other in a wave of greeting as I hurtled down the last bits of the slope and came to rest before the garden gate.

The very picture of calm, indeed.

An image which added to my confusion as I quickly noted that someone was shouting from within the house itself, and that there was a horrible barking and roaring sort of noise going on within the house along with the frantic shouting. This was quickly followed by a crash of dishes and a stream of swear words that crescendos into a immense yell which drowned out the portable radio Sebastian had set up. ( I don't know why Seb even set the thing up. I'll explain in a bit)

I stand there, stunned for a moment as I stake stock of what the hell was going on. But Sebastian however, took no notice. He continued to tend to his plants with an air of calm dignity, his long white whiskers brushing the soil as he stooped to drop the watering can in exchange for a hand trowel and a pail full of berry seeds.

If I had been less familiar with Professor Yew and her household, I might have dismissed it completely. The Professor was considered an oddball by the community and after all, Sebastian was evidently not worried so why should I have to be?

I mean, Sebastian is an Alakazam after all, and the general consensus is that the Alakazam are rather formidable pokemon. I had no need to worry, right?

But Sebastian's also rather old, as in really old. And also he's deaf as a post. And also very nearly blind. And, in my opinion, very highly likely almost to the point of senility. Professor Yew's Da originally owned him, or so she said and before that, her Grandda caught him as an abra. His battling days are obviously long over, and so as I mentioned above, big sis Yew just lets him do as he pleases, and in return he helps out as a butler and as a general odd jobs pokemon.

'Sebastian!' Professor Yew's voice emerged from within the house. 'SEBASTIAAAAAN! Arggh! Gettofff! Ow! Ow!' (And others, which will not be recorded for now) Then there's a sound of doors slamming, and the horrible bark-roar that I had heard earlier. It sends a chill down my spine as it increases in intensity, drowning out the professor's yells . And then, Professor Yew's voice cuts off with the sound of a massive crash of metal. And suddenly, the house falls silent.

Leaving only the radio. '...your neighbour could be Twam Rocket! Here's how to be sure..'

Sebastian however, apparently takes no notice, just patting soil down with his trowel without a care in the world. He even seemed to have forgotten that I was there.

You see what I mean when I described him as 'old' earlier.

I don't bother calling out to him. I decided in his current state, he'd be more of hindrance anyway.

Or now that I think about it, perhaps that' was just what _he wanted_ me to think... You have to give the Alakazam credit, they are pretty smart. Smart enough to know not to go into a confined space with something that sounds like a cheap horror movie gone wild.

And speaking of cheap horror movies, I went and did what always gets the first guy killed – run into the building to investigate. Needless to say, had I known how stupid that particular decision had been, I would have slapped some sense into myself, there and then. But, curiosity drove me on.

Professor Yew's front door proved to be unlocked, and swings aside with an ominous creak revealing the darkened interior. Professor Yew's a late riser, so every window in her house is usually shuttered till lunchtime. Which of course made the whole place look abandoned at times. Neatly abandoned, I thought as I clenched my fists and cross the threshold, kicking a bit of spherical debris away.

And as it clattered noisily off to the side of the door, I found that I was holding my breath. My body, tense to the point of jumping when the door creaked a little in the wind. In the gloom, I thought that perhaps my mind was playing tricks on me. Any number of eldrich shapes slithered around in the ambiguity of my imagination, but nothing jumped out at me.

Yet.

My eyes adjusted soon enough, and the scene became clear enough. The place looked like a whirlwind hit it. Tables lay overturned with the cutlery all over the floor. The television had toppled over and had knocked over a rack of discs and most prominent of all, the all encompassing sour smell of damp and droppings. And as I took by first steps deeper into the gloom, my attention was naturally drawn to a large box wrapped in Da's signature style. It lay near the kitchen in a congealed pool of red slime, far from anything else except for a single box cutter.

It also seemed to have exploded from the inside out. Which arguably was the more important bit of information, though at the time, I was more concerned with the fact that it looked uncomfortably like a scene from a _certain_ movie about aliens,

So, just in case, I decided to leave the door open. A viable escape route.

And with the reassuring light that the opening let in, I quickly inspected Professor Yew's living room. Taking care to avoid the puddles and foot prints marked with that horrible smelling red stuff, I stepped carefully towards the basement door, a large metal piece with a keypad. I tugged on the handle, but it does not yield. It's obviously locked and though I've known the password for years, I don't bother unlocking it.

There's nothing in the lab that could have helped me anyway. I know that from experience, and despite the usual RPG gamer's impulse to loot the place, I decided that a centrifuge and a broken spectrophotometer wouldn't be of much use. There's no conveniently placed pokemon down there either, as Sebastian's the only one Professor Yew has.

Besides, Professor Yew's cries had came from the second floor windows.

I would have to go up to check. And as I crossed the living room towards the stairs, I picked up a wreck of a chair as a sort of impromptu weapon. It had been snapped, or crushed, but half was it was solid enough and I thought that it would serve as a club at the very least. Which in retrospect, wasn't really the best choice. Professor Yew had knives in the kitchen, and had I thought of it at the time, a set of old golf clubs owned by her Da, which I had stashed away in a closet during one of the professor's previous cleaning manias.

But being caught up in the atmosphere at the time, I assumed that it would suffice, not stopping to consider what might have crushed the chair in the first place.

I did have some good ideas though. Taking my first steps upwards, I quickly noted that there were red hand prints and claw marks on the walls. And luckily for me, the ominous sight stimulated my common sense and kicked in my self preservation instinct. So I decided to drag Sebastian along, pride be damned.

Sebastian was still in the same place as always, but the elderly Alakazam didn't protest much as I grabbed him by the arm and hauled his behind back into the house. He barely put up a struggle though he dropped several spoons along the way and stared at me disapprovingly from under his long white eyebrows.

'Quickly! Quickly! No time!' I said pulling him along with me.

Whether or not he heard me, I still don't know but apart from a slightly frustrated groan, Sebastian meekly followed along. And so as I walked back towards the stairs, I mentally tick off a check-list. A check-list of survival.

Just to be sure that I've got the main points covered and to maximise my chances of making it out alive.

I've managed to get a weapon, someone to watch my back and a clear escape route. I known the layout of Professor Yew's second floor like its my own, since I've cleaned practically every inch of her place before. Knowing where something might hide and ambushed us seemed rather important and I had a fairly good idea where a creature might be upstairs. In fact, despite the ominous feeling, I was actually feeling confident.

The brand of confidence that would have been described as suicidal had it been aired on a drama. I wonder why I hadn't noticed, because I have watched my fair share of those.

And so, rendering all my planning and confidence for naught, the bastard cheated and ambushed us as we went stairs.

It struck from above, leaping from the upper part of the stairwell with a vicious bark and landing with a crash on the staircase landing. And before I could react, or even take a good look at it, it attacked, pouncing upon the two of us with a furious roar.

This is the part where the details get a little sketchy.

'Sebastian! Use Psy-whatever!' I yell desperately, as the glint of teeth filled my vision. It is also highly likely that I had yelled 'Holy Shit!' instead, but I'm sure I had ordered Sebastian to attack, though much good it managed to do me. I had forgotten one thing about Sebastian.

Sebastian, being oh so deaf, immediately teleported away instead, leaving me to face the beast alone.

Ignoring the narrative, I would like to record that, the next opportunity I get, I'm going to yank all of your stupid whiskers out Seb you coward. No matter what Professor Yew says.

I suppose I had been lucky though. Since the beast obviously considered Sebastian a bigger threat than I was and charged at him first.

Like I said above, Sebastian ran (teleported) away quicker than Team Rocket cannon fodder, leaving me alone with that damned creature, which found itself assaulting empty air instead. It thumped against the wall with a horrible crash and a creak of wood, but still grazing me with enough force to knock me around. I didn't manage to take a good look at whatever it was, but I took a desperate swing at the monstrous creature anyway. A strike with as much of my strength I could put into it.

It went as well as one would have expected. I'm no lone protagonist with implausible swordsmanship.

It dodged and screamed at me, hitting floor like a sack of meat but that didn't even slow it as it rebounded quickly, obviously quite unfazed. Its talons scratched the floorboards as it bore down on me, screaming and gnashing its teeth and slavering horrifically. The stench it carried with it was horrendous enough without the spittle that it dribbled everywhere.

Flecks of it splashed onto me as I dodged the charge and hit the railings instead, And taking the opportunity, run, I don't bother to wipe the saliva away, even though I felt that it was probably toxic or something, or at least laden with enough bacteria to kill a person.

Disgusting, yes, but immediate survival always takes precedence.

But the monstrosity darted to a side, flanking me.

And so I took one last swing at it, smashing the chair down onto it with all the force I could muster as it charged me with such visible rage that the air seemed to ripple with it. Or maybe it was just the smell, now that I think back.

Unsurprisingly, the chair splintered into pieces, but in contrast to my previous attempt, it had some effect this time. With a furious roar, the damned thing fell, crashing through the railings like they were toothpicks. But my respite was short lived. The thing rebounded almost instantaneously, leaping towards me with a screech of murder. Pretty much the only thing missing from the whole fiasco was a message saying that my attack '_wasn't very effective_' or something.

Maybe I should take up fencing like Ma.

I don't recall much after that, so I'll just record that I fought it off the best I could in an epic test of strength, a true battle of humanity against beast. At least that's what I told the professor...

I quickly ended up pinned on the ground, a hard lesson about my actual physical fitness. It's endurance and strength far surpassed mine and despite my best efforts at struggling, I was knocked down. And as it leapt onto me, its weight crushing down on my chest, I finally got a first good look at it, or at least, a very good look at its teeth. A whole, slavering noxious mouth full of them, all of them jagged and flecked with bits of meat.

'GRRTAAAAAAAAAAAGTA' it screamed(_The best written onomatopoeia I could come up with with for its roar of utter fury_), right in my face, covering me with stench and spittle. And when I opened my eyes, a pair of maddened red eyes stared into my own, conveying the utter depths of its hatred.

Needless to say, I was rather intimidated at that point as the bloodshot, furious red rage filled eyes practically said, 'I'm going to eat your face.' And to add insult to injury, the bastard shed on me, raining blackish fur and flakes of dried red stuff onto my face and into my mouth.

It's amazing what your mind can cook up under stress, because I swear I was thinking about mouthwash and how it would be my best friend.

That is, if I could survive with my face intact.

–

An then, as the creature's maw descended down upon me, I heard the clatter of footsteps on wood, which creaked audibly as someone descended.

'STEAK!' A shrill voice screamed out. 'STEEEEAAAK!'

Something sailed over me. But with the monstrous creature's weight on me, I could not turn to look. Instead, what I heard was the sound of breaking glass and a tragic wail of 'My window!'

Now, my first thoughts were of 'What the hell is going on?' and 'Did it miss?' As I could see no real change in my situation. But the creature's weights shifted as it turned its attention away from me, staring instead at its unknown assailant.

Then there was this short sob and yet another piece of something flew right over head, this time with a wet soggy slap as it hit something beyond the doorway to the kitchen. The disgusting creature growled and then released me, its weight lifting from my body as it charged, howling murderously into the kitchen after whatever it was.

And as I lay there, still too stunned to move, the sound of flesh tearing filled the room, echoing horribly from the kitchen. And then, Professor Yew filled my vision instead. Her bespectacled face a more welcome sight than any I had ever seen. I exaggerate.

'Oh my goodness! A-are you aright?' She whimpered, half sobbing. 'I heard someone screaming, so I came down to check.'

At this point of time, I couldn't really talk, or I would have told the professor that I wasn't as badly hut as she had thought, and that no one, no one had been screaming. But I was rather out of breath at that stage. With her help, I managed to sit up and immediately begin to cough, spitting the strands of fur and flakes out as best I can.

'C-can you stand?' Professor Yew asked, as she choked back sobs and still half pulling me up in an awkward half embrace.

I replied by struggling to my feet, and the both of us tottered a few steps away from the kitchen where the sound of meat being shredded emerged.

Professor Yew was a far cry from her usual neat appearance, with torn holes and rips in her turtle-neck and red stains down her lab coat. Her black hair was tangled to the point where it resembled a bird's nest and she hadn't bothered to straighten her glasses. Not that she could, as they were twisted at a strange angle.

She obviously had a hectic morning,

We lean on each other as we try to move. And as we stumble slowly towards the door, I asked her what happened. A hoarse gasp of 'what happened here?'

But the Professor's only reply was an expression of utter misery as she looked about her wrecked home whilst clutching me tightly to her. Needless to say, with the both of us leaning on one another and stumbling around bits of debris, we did not get very far when the monstrous creature emerged, having finished its gristly meal. Not that we notice of course, having focused our efforts into getting out the front door. Until the sound of shattering glassware caught our attention.

We turned, only to face a pair of deathly red eyes, staring at us from amidst the wreck of a service trolley.

'Oh my goodness...those were expensive,' The professor moaned, half collapsing onto me. And unsteady as I am, I could not take her weight and found myself crushed to my knees. 'D-don't show fear,' she advised, rather fearfully.

My reply was a concise, 'Get off me!' Along with a strong underlying tone of 'Let's run!'

But the Professor seemed near a breakdown, and I, admittedly was not much better, having no strength at all to stand. But hope came in a strange form. And as my hand shot out to support myself, it hit against something. Something round and metallic and cool to the touch. On close examination, it turned out to be a pokeball – the 'debris' which I had kicked aside when I first entered.

'Sis!' I yell, and as Professor Yew turned, a look of surprise on her face, I deposited the pokeball into her hand. Having lost over five pokeballs in my past attempts to catch a starly, I knew that I would not be considered a master capturer, and despite the temptation to throw the damned thing myself, common sense prevailed over rash bravado. And I gave the pokeball to the more competent adult.

"R-right! I got it!' Professor Yew exclaimed unsteadily, as a more resolute expression filled her face. Her hand clutched tightly around the sphere, trembling slightly. But as I began to question my judgement, the monstrous creature growled and took its first steps towards us, the intensity of its growl rising into a roar as it sprang from the wreck, a mass of teeth, muscle, fur and unstoppable rage.

But the professor reacted first.

'L-let's go!' She cried, swinging her arm in a pitcher's arc and throwing the pokeball with all her might.

And so we watched as it sailed gracefully through the air and through the glass panelling of a display cabinet, shattering the dishes within. All I can say now, is that reality hates the two of us sometimes.

And with fear,adrenaline and self preservation managing to overcome the mental trauma, we fled

And you know that myth where they say the first pokemon capture is easy?

Busted.

My breath ran ragged and Professor Yew was in no better shape, huffing and puffing along side me and against all logic and sense, occasionally finding the breath to shriek in terror as the furious roar that came up behind us grew in intensity. And so we ran, oblivious to all else as the foul creature followed, shrieking and growling all the way.

I know that I'm not a paragon of physical fitness, and Professor Yew is probably in worse shape as she rarely y leaves her house, but we somehow managed to run all the way across town and up the hill. It's amazing what the human body can pull off with the right encouragement. And as we terrorised the neighbourhood, a small detached bit of my mind wondered if I could thrash the school's sports open now.

We only do stop when it finally collapsed.

So it turned out that Professor Yew had stuck five doses of tranquillizer into each steak. Or so she told me.

Anyway, I took stock of our surroundings and it turned out that we had ran all the way back to Ma's place. And as I look up towards the house, I noted that Ma herself was staring down at us from the second story, with a towel wrapped around her head and an incredulous expression on her face.

As if she didn't know weather to laugh out loud or scream at us.

When I looked around, I realized that we ran straight through Ma's prized flower beds, churning the soft soil and trampling her flowers underfoot. And as I take a look at our assailant, I realize that reality did hat us, because what had been chasing us was a rat.

Professor Yew's house had been wrecked by a a rat.

We had been chased by a rat.

And worst of all for my pride, I had lost to a rat in a fight. A bloody rat.

It's a _big evil_ looking rat with jagged teeth, scars and shedding, loose fur, but still a rat. It's a _big_ one though a little skinny looking and disease ridden. But _very formidable_ looking.

'Rattata, the mouse pokemon," Professor Yew said faintly and sank to the grass. 'Oh my goodness...'

Ma took a good look at my dishevelled appearance and thenshowing great sympathy, turned to Professor Yew instead. Evidently she thought that I was fine. 'Did that husband of mine send you that?' Ma asked instead. 'Was it in a pokeball?'

Professor Yew looked up, towards Ma and shook her head slowly. 'No- I don't think so. It just burst out of uncle's package when I tried to open it.' (Uncle, being Da of course.) And to that, Ma noded slowly, confirming something in her head. Probably selecting a few choice words for Da.

And to this, I peered at the rat and added my two cents worth. 'Sis' I breath, 'You sure this isn't a pikachu?'

'Er...' Professor Yew looked at me liked I'd gone mad or something, but she answered anyway as she leaned back on the grass and stared long and hard the the rat (probably just to humour me). 'Er, I'm afraid so.' She mumbled finally. 'Definitely a rattata. It must have gone mad from hunger or something, poor thing...

So my theory that I was stressed to the point of seeing rats instead of pikachu was quickly dashed. In addition I found it hard to sympathise with the monstrous rat, considering that it had nearly eaten my face and would probably give me blood poisoning or something.

All of which is actually Da's fault. And though Da's intent was good, his inherent clumsiness and absent-mindedness got in the way as usual. The degree of which I was to find out soon enough. Though, for Da is always seems to work out in the end, for some reason. Which I'll elaborate on later.

Ironically enough, I did find out that pikachu were_ also rats _later. From a source I hadn't expected.

**Musings of the Hour**: I wo_nder how much extra cash I can get off big sis if I offer to help clean her place?_

_Crap. I just realized that I left my bike and the packages in big sis's front lawn. I'll have to get them later. _


	3. Chapter 1,3: The Thin Red Finishing Line

**The Thin Red Line**

**Chapter 1.3: The Red Finishing Line **

–

The front door crashed open and Ma stepped out from the house, wearing a irritated scowl upon her face as she marched down the path towards us. In her hands, she carried a length of twine and some duct tape and to my surprise, our last pokeball. Watching, I blinked as Ma moved past me without a word, instead audibly grumbling and moving towards the sleeping rat.

'Both of you, grab the legs.' Ma orders and both Professor Yew and I leap to obey. Well, more so for me than the Professor, who was understandably finicky about touching it. But Ma' was in her element and neither of us felt able question her. Her team back in the day was still remembered by the older generation of trainers about town of being exceedingly well disciplined and coordinated. Two traits which saw her all the way to the elite four.

If anyone knew how to handle pokemon, it would be Ma.

So Professor Yew took the fore and I, the rear, pulling the twitching limbs together with some effort. And as Ma unwinds the rope, I took a good long look at my assailant. To say that I wasn't very impressed would be right. I could not believe that I had lost to this _thing_.

It was still a pretty big rat even up close, easily surpassing the local pests, the bidoof in size. But as I looked at it, I decided that it actually looked rather, scrawny for its size. In fact the thing looked downright emaciated, with its rib cage visible standing out from under its skin, which looked diseased enough - with the visible scars and scabs of reddish flakes amongst the patches of baldness where the fur had shed away. It was definitely not as fearsome as it had been back in the gloom of Professor Yew's place.

I exchanged glances with Professor Yew and she shook her head. 'Seems like malnutrition,' she said softly. 'Packages from Kanto take more than a week to ship to Sinnoh, don't they? He must have been starving, maybe even before he got shipped over.'

All I could do was answer with an indifferent 'Probably.' At this point of time, I found it more than a little hard to sympathise with that psychopathic monstrosity, even if the little bastard hadn't seen a square meal in some time.

It seemed even smaller next to Ma, who always seems larger than life with her mannerism. Though I'll probably be as tall if not taller than her when I'm older, There's this 'Ma' factor that adds a little bit to her dimensions. For example, its teeth were exactly as I remember though, sharp and jagged and still exuding the smell of rot and meat. But with Ma around, it just didn't seem as formidable.

I lean to a side as Ma stoops over the rat and manoeuvred its limbs into position. 'Keep a good grip on it you two,' she reminded us as she wound the rope around the rat tightly. And then, with a final tug at the knot, Ma gave us the signal to let go.

Professor Yew looked disapproving – she is a pokemon professor after all, albeit not particularly a notable one in her field. But she knew better than to argue with Ma. I had always suspected that one of the reason why Professor skipped the town council planning meetings was because Ma invariable took charge.

Anyway, the both of us backed off at Ma's signal. As for Ma herself, she stood above the rat with pokeball in had, as if contemplating its bounded form. What she had been waiting for, I couldn't say, but as the rat begin to stir from its drug induced slumber, Ma flipped it over onto its back with one foot.

Its red eyes shot open and it gave such a terrible scream of rage that Professor Yew plugged her ears and I winced. But Ma stood her ground with a deadpan expression, as if this were this was routine. A tiny smirk played upon her features as sje watched as all four of the rat's bound limbs flailed uselessly in the air. On its back and bound as it was, the little bastard could do nothing more than shriek and slaver at Ma, unable to vent its rage on her. And even then, Ma made no move to capture it.

'What's she doing?' I asked Professor Yew.

The Professor frowned, and answered as she arranged her glasses with a free hand. 'I think she's establishing dominance. What a cruel way to do it.' With emotion rising in her voice, she continued, citing a sentence that I have heard many times.

'A pokemon's trust should be gained through love and friendship!'

An idealistic phrase, maybe a bit overused in the dramas. I could see her point of view, but good luck trying to be friends with that monstrous creature. And this time, even Professor Yew sounded a little hollow, probably because the rat wrecked her home. But to be concise, neither of us interfere.

Ma knelt down beside the struggling rat and stared it right in the eye. I saw that she said something, but whether it was words of calming to sooth it or an ultimatum to stop moving or hell would break loose, I could not tell. With Ma, the latter would be more probable though. Anyway, no matter what Ma said or did, the thing stopped. Stopped right in the middle of the struggling and the screaming and then just lying there as if it were dead.

'Good boy,' Ma said. And then with a gentle tap, she brought the pokeball down upon it. There was a flash of red light and the next moment, the rat was gone, confined within the pokeball in Ma's hand. Love Ma, or dislike her, you have to admit that Ma was good at this, even after her long period of retirement.

'Let's go in then. You two are going to catch a chill out here.' She said as she shoved the pokeball into her pocket. 'I think, we are going to have a talk with your father later,' she said to me as I passed her.

So Da was in trouble. Double trouble in fact, as both Ma and Professor Yew were on his case

And I wholeheartedly agree with Ma. I supposed I was still rather disappointed over not getting a pikachu. Though Ma was probably more angry about the _'the rattata you sent nearly mauled the kid!_' part and Professor Yew would mention that '_the rattata you sent destroyed my home and nearly mauled __your kid and myself__!'_

But that's for a bit later.

Once inside, however, Ma looked the both of us over critically and quickly declared that we both need to take a bath. To put it in her usual blunt manner; 'You stink. Take a bath and let the professor go first.' To which Professor Yew stops short.

'Uh, there's really no need! I don't want to inconvenience you,' Professor Yew protested, but to ultimately no avail.

'Up the stairs and turn right,' Ma continued, as if she had never heard Professor Yew's objections. 'I'll send up a towel and a change of clothes. Go on.' I'd also like to note that when Ma said that _she_ would send up someone, she was referring to me. And so as Ma went off to get a video phone connection to Da and Professor Yew went upstairs looking rather confused. Knowing better to protest, I went to the laundry room to get the towel.

I don't take too long and soon found Professor Yews monopolizing the bathroom, her skinny figure moving from wall to wall, arranging everything on the shelving into neat rows and straightening the bathmat every few seconds. It didn't help that it shifted every time she stepped on it. So I left the towel and one pair of Ma's spare pyjamas and abandoned big sis to her obsessions, returning downstairs before she noticed me.

I was smelly and tired, but I was probably a little old for shared baths. Needless to say it didn't help my mood much and I was feeling quite surly from the disappointment when I reached the living room, only to find Da's bespectacled face smiling animatedly on the video screen. He's unshaven and he looked like he hadn't slept in days, the expression on his face is happy nonetheless.

'Hey there, kiddo! ' He gushed with his usual enthusiasm. 'How'd you like my birthday present?'

But before I could answer, Ma cut in from here she had been standing, glaring at Da with that special glare that she reserves for when either of us had done something especially stupid. 'Your _birthday present _nearly sent our child to the hospital, dear.' She said, her calm tone at odds with her expression.

Evidently, I had interrupted them before they could even get talking, or Da would have been white faced and stammering already. But they did not want me to be present for this, as Ma turned back to me and sent me off with a quick, 'Go and wait for your turn to bath.'

Ma never scolds Da when I'm around to hear her but that wouldn't stop me form listening in. If I were to be still technically waiting for _my turn_ to bath at within audible distance but out of sight, it wouldn't be blatant disobedience, would it?

Anyway, Ma began with her standard jab of 'What were you thinking?' And pretty much sent Da to the ropes from the get go.

Da, being Da, quickly realized that things were '_not as planned_,' if he even had a plan beyond acting on impulse on a dubiously good idea he had gotten from an unreliable source. I did not manage to hear his reply, but Ma was kind enough to repeat it out for me. Very vocally. I inch closer anyway.

'A ketchup trap? What in the world is a ketchup trap?' Ma yelled.

'You see, dear.' Da's voice sounded out, 'I wanted to get kiddo a pikachu – you know to help our little twerp break out from that depression? But pikachu are kind of hard to find in stores, so I decided to catch one!' He continued meekly.

'With the ketchup trap.' Ma states.

'Exactly dear!' Da replied, who now sounded more enthusiastic with Ma's brief reprieve. 'I didn't have much time, so I thought I could drop by the Viridian forest and set up a ketchup trap. Pikachu like ketchup, don't they? I saw it in a documentary once – very informative.'

There are times in life when you have to perform a face-palm. And this is one of them.

In fact, I really could imagine Ma doing it right now. Pikachu that like ketchup being a concept so obviously fictional that even the retarded younger sibling of the Hikari Fan-club president (who has an already tenuous grasp on reality) wouldn't believe it. And then on the other hand, we have Da, who's moments of brilliance are overshadowed by things like this. Which makes you wonder why he's successful at what he does anyway.

Ma broke the silence.

'That was a live action drama.' she said. Somehow, I get the impression that she managed to add a non verbal '_you imbecile_' to it. The atmosphere is tense and from my vast experience at getting into trouble with Ma, I could tell that she was building up to a blistering climax. Very little could stop Ma once she had gained momentum in an argument.

But one of those things that could and would stop her, was keeping it within the family.

The clump! clump! Of footsteps descending from the floor above cut into the scolding, and Ma's final verbal assault stopped without having started. And I watched glumly as Professor Yew came into view, dressed in Ma's pyjamas and looking considerably happier than before.

'Oh? You're waiting here?' She asked,' I hope I didn't make you wait for too long.'

'Thanks! Bye!' I said and I quickly scampered upstairs as Ma's voice, now in an icily calm tone, invited Professor Yew over to speakto Da.

Unfortunately, I don't dare eavesdrop any further as I really had no reason not to be in the bathroom, scrubbing the ratty filth off myself. And with Professor Yew talking to Da, Ma might just come and check.

Anyway, there's not much to say except that the bathroom was much tidier than I had remembered.

By the time I returned downstairs, whatever that had gone one between Professor Yew, Ma and Da had been finished. Probably with less shouting that would have been the norm, die to outsider interference. Not that Da was completely off the hook yet, as Ma would probably ring him up the moment Professor Yew left.

I was surprised actually, by the sight of Ma pulling the special occasion steaks out the refrigerator to grill, with enough to for even Professor Yew and second helpings. Because I'll be honest, Ma was never a great fan of Professor Yew. She's on the town planning council and attends the meetings like clockwork, while Professor Yew avoids those same meetings like the plague, dodging community service with an amazing persistence. And what surprised me even more is that Ma doesn't mention a thing about her beloved flower beds having been trampled to pulp earlier.

Probably to thank Professor Yew for pulling me out of the fire.

Said professor was no where to be seen however. At least until I left the kitchen and turned towards the living room. There, Professor Yew accosted me with a slightly sheepish expression on her face and all the subtleness of a theatrical conspirator. Which meant all of the theatrics, but none of the subtlety.

'Is Auntie watching?' She asked quietly ( Auntie is Ma, of course) and with such exaggerated expressions that I I found it hard not to laugh. Next she'd be performing combat rolls.

'No?' I said.

'Good! Follow me!' She whispered, enthusiasm showing itself in the form of conspiratorial smile. 'Er..., I think talking outside would be better.'

'Talking?' I asked, as I followed her. 'To who?'

'Uncle wanted to talk to you – mailed me on my cell.' Professor Yew explained, looking over her shoulder to make sure that Ma wasn't listening. 'He said that he wanted to let auntie cool for for a bit first, so he won't be calling through your line.'

'You're very forgiving you know, sis,' I said.

But I followed her anyway, opening the front door and walking into the pale sunlight.

Professor Yew stood there, dressed in Ma's canary yellow pyjamas and from one voluminous pocket, she pulled out her cellphone. A high end model by the look of it. She worked her fingers deftly, tapping the keys and then thrusting it into my hands as it connected.

'Er.. have a nice chat I suppose,' Professor Yew said, turning back towards the house. 'I think I'll go back inside before I freeze.'

A statement which I found strange, because the inside of our house is nearly as bad as the outside.

But anyway, I stood there for a while, watching the cellphone as the 'now connecting' message flashed on screen. Feeling cold I might add. I remember miserably thinking that Da really better had something good to say if I had to freeze while he was saying it.

The audio was the first to cut in.

'Hello, hello? Professor, you there? Ah, its lag. Anyway, I reversed the charges so don't worry about the cellphone bill.' Da's voice said, clear as anything. Probably due to the quality of the phone. 'I'm sending a video call instead – don't worry about the bill, okay?' The cheery voice paused for a second. 'Hello?' He ventured again. 'Professor?'

I sighed.

'Da, its me.' I said feeling no small exasperation with the man.

'Oh.'

He paused, before a quick 'Wait! Wait! I'll turn on video!' came through the phone. "Id like to talk, face to face.'

'Sure,' I said, half wanting to hang up on him.

At the time, a bit of me did not want to hear what Da had to say, because well, let's just say Da has this gift to get you to sort of go along with his way of thinking. I don't know how Da does it, but I can recall many times where mid way through an argument with him, I suddenly begin to feel embarrassed and the arguments against him seem shallow and then all too quickly, my moral high ground has crumbled and I'm agreeing with him. Weird. ( There are better descriptions, but this is the best I can come up with for now.)

So I watched as the video screen flickered to life and for the second time today, I found myself talking to Da.

Da looked the same as always, as if Ma's scolding earlier had never happened at all, In fact, if anything, he looked like he was ready to take on the world despite being slightly unshaven. But, his ever present grin was a little muted for a change.

'Hey there, kiddo,' he said, looking a little more sombre for once.

'Hi Da' I say mechanically.

'Guess I screwed up pretty badly huh,' he continued, his voice softening. ' I heard from your mother, were you hurt?'

'No Da,'

'That's good. Very good to hear,' Da smiled. 'I'm a really useless father sometimes, you know? But I've got the two of you to make up for it.'

'I don't think you're useless Da.' I said, with some irritation, but Da shook his head at that.

'I ruined your birthday,' he stated as if he'd committed grave offence against me.

Its begun. Da's momentum increases, because I don't interrupt him, and I don't interrupt him because he's so darn nice about it and it just seems too rude to interrupt, and the longer he talks the nicer and more seasonable and more emphatic he seems. A nice vicious cycle.

I think Ma's the only one who's unaffected.

And the worst part is that Da's not guilt tripping me. He's just being well, Da.

He's a little like the protagonists in the computer games I played. With incredible charisma and charm and brilliant in his field. Draws a band of heroes magnetically to him, not quite to the point where they just drop everything and follow, but close enough. In fact now that I think about it, Da's account of his trainer's journey seemed eerily similar to the drama portrayal of Red's own, with all the sparkly friendship and rainbows crap.

Except that Da barely managed to scrape through the eight certification battles for his badges and only did so with Ma's help. Needless to say, Ma knocked him out in their first league battle.

Anyway, at this point, Da was visibly penitent and seemed determined to put himself in the wrong. Until I cut in.

'Its aright Da, you tried your best.' I reassured him. 'Everyone makes mistakes, even Ma.'

_And especially you. _I thought, quite unkindly. But not seriously. Its very difficult to dislike Da.

Especially when there are tears in his eyes. Cliché? Yes. But effective? Also yes.

'You're the best, kiddo!' Da exclaimed. 'To forgive your old Dad, just like that. Heh you could be a bit more selfish you know,' he continued, with a somewhat wry expression. 'I promised you a pikachu and sent you a rattata...ah how about one of those butterfree things? We've managed to get one of those from the last Viridian trip. It's in a pokeball so this time there won't be screw ups!'

I considered it, but only for a moment.

'I'm not big on bugs, Da. But thanks.' I replied, all the while thinking of what Ma would do if a giant bug showed up on our doorstep. And I would have to scrape the resultant mess off the floor.

'Or maybe a nice, Nidoran?' Da continued, unperturbed by my refusal. 'I'm not quite sure if its male of female, but it looks sturdy enough.'

'Er, no thanks Da,' I replied. 'I don't think that I'll be going on my trainer journey any time soon anyway.'

Da's smile slipped of his face as he looked at me. 'Still sore over the regional starters, kiddo?' He asked, quietly.

'A little,' I answered.

'You're very talented, you know, ' Da said. "And its a real shame that you weren't chosen. But remember, the trainer makes the pokemon! So don't let what kind of pokemon you begin with limit you!'

Of course Da would know my prejudices against the local pests, the bidoof and starleys. So I braced myself for a lecture.

But then Da took me by surprise. Not by lecturing about 'How he'd be proud of me no matter what I did', or 'how I'd be missing a lot if I skipped my trainer's journey,' or even 'how he's started his own journey with a bidoof.'

Instead, he went, 'Hey, _Mister Red_, come on here and tell my kid which pokemon you started with.' And then, he moved off the screen, practically skipping.

I nearly dropped the cellphone when _he_ moved onto the screen.

He was older, of course, but unmistakeable. The same face that had been shown on uncountable newspapers, tabloids, websites, fan clubs and the Pokemon League hall of victory. Unlike his drama portrayal, there was no unruly hair or an overly excited countenance or even a trace of actor Ash Ketchum's vapid expression. He wasn't even wearing the cap that the stupid show had made iconic to the Pokemon League trainers.

Red looked calm. But I, on the other hand...

'Oh my god.' I breathed. 'You're Red!'

'Er, yes.' He said, frowning slightly. 'Good to meet you.'

'Goodtomeetyou!' I answered. But to this, Red had no reply, instead just staring intently at the screen to the point where I began to feel like I'd offended him. But Da intervened.

'Don't worry kiddo! He's just a little socially awkward!' Da's voice called out from off screen. 'Don't be shy, kay?'

Red just blinked, probably not quite sure how to deal with Da or myself for that matter. But he didn't speak and I soon realized that he was waiting for me to get the ball rolling. And my mind was racing furiously all the while.

There were so many questions that I could have asked, and had wanted to ask. Questions like 'How did you do it?' (Defeating the league at his age) or 'Could I get an autograph?' or even 'Is your pikachu really as powerful as they say?' All of which I felt were perfectly valid, except the autograph one.

But before I could speak, a sleek mass of fur appeared on screen, and wide intelligent eyes gazed at me. A yellow furred pikachu looked at me curiously, then with its curiosity sated, darted off to clamber up Red's shoulder. Naturally, it drew my attention, and so I just blurted out the first thing I thought of.

'That's a pikachu isn't it?' I asked.

'...Yes. He is.' Red answered, now looking vaguely confused.

'It doesn't go 'pika pika' like the show?'

'No. He's the quiet type.'

And I slapped myself mentally. How awkward could that have gotten? Here I was, with the opportunity to speak to one of the greatest League Champions ever and I couldn't even talk to him properly. Red was being polite enough, having no real reason to talk except at Da's insistence. And what had he been doing in Da's office anyway?

'Er... Your father said that you wanted to ask me which pokemon I started with?' Red broke the stalemate.

'Oh yes! What I wanted to ask you was …' I thought back to the forums, beyond the spam and flame wars. 'Did you start with a poliwag?' I asked finally.

Red blinked. Then nodded, the pikachu nodding along with him, as if the pokemon had understood every word. 'Yes. It's a poliwrath now, but I did begin with it – here.'

He reached for his belt and pulled out a worn looking pokeball. An older generation of pokeball, outdated by four or five years by the look of it. And then he held it close to the camera. A few letters were scratched onto the side of it, '_Poli -1'. _

But I was still not too sure. Poliwags were still, well uncommon.

But Red took one look at my expression and said, 'Pikachu are rat pokemon too. Please don't underestimate the rattata .'

I was speechless, to say the least. How he knew, I did not know, though I suspected Da had told him. Then, a lab assistant appeared on screen and whispered something to Red. " I caught a few snatches of 'rushing for time,' and 'mission,' but Red brushed her off before leaning a bit closer to the camera.

'I have to go now.' He said, and gave a nod to the pikachu which scampered off the screen. 'But if you decided to go on your own journey anyway, then, well,' a brief smile flickered onto his features. 'I wish you all the best.'

'Er,..oh yes, Happy Birthday.' He added. And then he was gone.

Replaced by Da who had reappeared back on screen, grinning happily. 'How was it kiddo?' He asked. 'Real walking legend huh -you got a sense of something big just by looking at him.' He nodded at that.

'Da, why is Red of all people at your place?' I asked.

'Oh!' He grinned as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 'We're fixing up his gear with some improvements -the usual last minute stuff. Turns out he's rushing a flight to Isshu – Unova whatever that place's called. Something about Team Rocket fighting it out with some cult called Team Plasma -'

'Doctor! What does the _non-disclosure agreement _mean to you?' An agonised voice yelled, cutting Da off. 'You can't just go around telling everyone!'

Da turned to the unknown speaker. 'Alright alright! He cried, 'before turning back to me. 'Sorry kiddo, talked a bit too much there – I've got to do a final check on Red's gear so I guess we'll have to cut this sort. Send me a mail if you want anything, okay?

'Sure Da, ' I answer. 'Take care.'

'You too, kiddo.'

And with that, we ended the call. And as I stumbled back into the house, I was thinking and thinking hard. Red, even with his lack of verbosity, had given me something a great deal of food for thought. And Da, as usual had his effect on me. It was a complicated sort of feeling.

And even now it does feel strange, despite my best attempts to describe and write it down. I won't say that my heart felt light or that it was a great load off my mind, at the risk of sounding cliché. But, I did feel better and stupid. Yes stupid.

Red had conquered the league with a poliwag as his starter. Maybe he had been lying, to let me keep my blissful illusions. And maybe he hadn't. It does not matter. I don't know why the words meant more to me when Red said them, than when I had consoled myself for my loss, but I realised the stupidity of hiding from the world at home. My friends were leaving or had left, some with Regional Starters, others with bidoofs or starleys or the household pets. And I was left behind.

Sure, I deserved a regional starter. And maybe starting with a pest was beneath me, but what Red and Da had helped me realise, was that I would never reach the finishing line if I never had started at all. And to start I would need a pokemon. One of those starly, or one of those ugh, bidoof or...

And so, I walked into the kitchen to the delicious smell of Ma's grill, and I confronted Ma immediately.

'Ma,' I went. 'I'm sorry for being whiny.'

'Hmm? What brought this one?' Ma asked, though I did not answer and pressed on instead.

'I've decided to go on my trainer's journey! So could I have the rat as my birthday present?' I asked, straight to Ma's face.

And Ma smiled.

–

So my first entry ends to a positive note.

And grilled streak, which always brightens someone's day.

I suppose this isn't so bad after all.


	4. Chapter 2,1: A Contrieved Coincidence

_Notes:__ First, I would like to thank_ _Jigglypuff's Pillow for beta reading and __ironing out all the various grammatical errors that I get. _

* * *

><p><strong>The Thin Red Line<strong>

**Chapter 2.1: A Contrived Coincidence**

Call it fate, luck, or whatever, no one knows, but sometimes these things do happen. Like in those dramas, where a character or Pokémon pops out at just the right time to move the plot along. While you watch on, enduring your way through the cheesy episode with the words '_Wow, that sure was convenient'_ going thorough your mind_._

One never expects this sort of thing to happen in reality, but I swear it has. If this were a story, it would have been a real, true and honest plot hook. In fact, I suspect that I am currently having some repayment for all the bad luck that I've been subjected to lately, despite my personal maintenance that karma doesn't quite work that way. But enough about that.

I'll need quite a bit of elaboration to explain what happened.

So it had reached the point where my concern was, strangely, focused on a pair of shoes.

In the curtained gloom of my room, I looked on forlornly as a pair of ruined shoes tumbled out from the box. And not just any shoes. These were genuine Pres-B running shoes. A rather expensive pair I had saved up for and bought with my pocket money in anticipation for my trainer's journey. Back when I had been sure that I would be chosen to train a regional starter.

They were comfortably padded, with excellent ergonomics and heel support, and now they were full of ragged holes.

What could have done this, I wondered, dropping the tattered shoes with a groan. It was a sad fate for such shoes and in retrospect, it was obvious whodunnit.

On cue, a whiskered snout poked its way out from under the desk, chittering at me mockingly.

"You little monster," I accused, meeting the two evil eyes from under the desk with my own. "How did you get out?"

The evil little thing's obvious response was a hiss of hatred as it shuffled about beneath my desk. There was a thump as it smacked into a leg and sent several magazines and stationary stacks flying off the desk and onto the floor.

"Get out from there!" I ordered, attempting to perform the same authoritative tone that Ma used so well as I readied the creature's Pokéball in my hand. But as I approached, it lunged out, snapping its jaws at my hand in a fit of sudden slavering madness.

"Fine, stay there!" I yelled, feeling quite frustrated at that point, but seating myself back in front of my old friend, the computer. If the little monstrosity wanted to rot under my desk, then fine. It could stay under my desk until its whiskers fell out, for all I cared. And so, after watching it carefully for a moment in case of any sudden movement, I turned to my computer, occasionally sneaking glances towards the foul rat in its makeshift lair.

It seemed content to remain in its dank hiding place, however, and so I ignored it. At any rate, I had other things to do.

I had decided to seek some advice on my level.

What does _'on my level_' entail? Let me elaborate.

Throwing all reason and logic out (yes I know), I decided to ask the president.

To be specific, the Hikari (and by extension, Platina Berlitz) fan-club's president, known to most of the fan club simply as 'the President' or 'the Pres' at his insistence. But I could say I that I knew him better than most, because of the fact that he lived right next door until he moved to Jubelife two years ago. He founded the fan-club when he was there, and much later, I figured out that he was in charge when I joined up myself.

A bit of a strange reunion, but that's not the point.

I know it sounded like a joke, going to him of all people for help. I mean, I had Ma, an experienced trainer who had been very high in the rankings in her day, not to mention Professor Yew, and an actual breathing Pokémon Professor to go to for advice. So why would I need the advice of a slightly obsessive fan-club president?

But this is where my 'levels' analogy comes in. Because both Ma and Professor Yew (maybe more so for Ma) had the experience to back up their supposed advice. Before she had loaned them all to Da in Kanto, Ma had enforced an ironclad discipline on her Pokémon. And Professor Yew, while lacking in this area, had her store of theoretical knowledge to tap into.

But the President was, or had been, a novice trainer. Like I am now.

Experience told me that I could not hope to emulate Ma's powerful clout over the Pokémon she commanded, and that to rely too much on Professor Yew's '_be friends and everything will work out_' mantra was pure stupidity.

In fact, subscribing to Professor Yew's mantra was one of the reasons I was here now, logging on to the Hikari-fans chat servers. So much coaxing and wheedling and attempted training, and it was still as uncontrollable as ever. A long chilly training session that made me feel like I was the star of a bad comedy or parody. It got so bad that I scarcely want to remember the mental and physical exhaustion the little monster caused, let alone record them down.

But I will anyway. For posterity's sake, if nothing else.

Professor Yew started the ball rolling, dispensing advice.

"Don't worry, Rattata are generally very good-natured once they get used to a trainer," Professor Yew had said with all the conviction in the world.

And so, with those words of wisdom to guide me, I began on my first step to become a master trainer: the effective command of a Pokémon. Like Red, I would overcome adversity and with my burning will and determination, I would inevitably triumph.

Or so I felt at the time. So it turns out, in reality, all those feelings do nothing when push comes to shove. I, fueled by Red's unexpected appearance and impromptu pep talk, had somewhat more self-confidence than I normally would have. On impulse, and drunk on the '_persevere and you will succeed_' feeling that talking to the great champion had left me, I had asked Ma for the captured Rattata to begin my journey with.

Which was a rather bad choice on my part. It wasn't that I had no other choices. I could have asked Da for another Pokémon, or even start with a stupid Bidoof, but I wanted to prove myself, succeed, and also in part because I wanted to show the damned rat who was boss. A bit of me told myself that I was great enough a trainer to challenge the odds and succeed. Just like Red.

But I was wrong, to put it simply.

I quickly found out that attempting to train a Pokémon which had no intention of being trained was an exercise in futility in itself. The evil little rat took all my perseverance and all my determination and chewed it all up. And then it left droppings all over their remains. And unlike that stupid drama, I did not have a convenient flock of evil Spearow attacking us to get the rage filled little creature to bond closer to me.

Some may say that I was unaware of the challenges, but I knew the difficulties. Perhaps even more than most beginners. After all, I go through the advanced trainer's package to apply for a regional starter. A memory which felt even more bitter than ever whenever I got the malicious creature out.

I knew that training Pokémon, especially wild ones that you've caught for the first time, is rarely an easy task. The Pokémon tended to be surly and uncooperative and often attempted to challenge the trainer for dominance of the group. The basic and advanced trainer's course packages that I sat through had told me that much at least, that the '_instant friendship_' concept popularized by the drama serial was truly and utterly nonsense.

So I had expected resistance and some hostility, but the stupid rat took that to ridiculous, almost parody-like extremes.

The very first time I let it out of the Pokéball, it proved itself to be of an exceedingly evil temperament. The rat did not want to '_be friends'_ with me. It was not the befriending type. Rather, it wanted to rip my face off and gnaw at my ankles.

And it made sure to let me know, by demonstrating many, many times.

Anyway, the training went somewhat like this:

On Professor Yew's advice, I had set up a bowl of water and moistened the pellets we had found for it in the store room. It had been just after Ma's excellent lunch, and the both of us had been full, well fed, and confident that our efforts would be rewarded.

"Let it out and show it you mean no harm!" She had said enthusiastically.

"Not in in my house. Go outside," Ma interjected as she looked on disapprovingly. And so we donned thicker clothing and shifted our operations outside into the bitter Sinnoh cold.

Shivering, surly, and under the supervision of the professor, I let it out, thumbing the Pokéball's release switch and dropping the it onto the grass. Within moments the release mechanism kicked in and unleashed the little horror within; an emaciated incarnation of pure malice and rage, with patchy fur, scars and a general malnourished, ratty look to it. I could have sworn that the grass wilted a little as it crushed the foliage under its paws.

With a guttural snarl, the beast stared about it at the surroundings, its beady red eyes searching for something we could not see as it raised its head and sniffed the air.

The both of us looked on at it, not quite knowing what to expect.

"Right, er... Tell the little fellow that there's food," Professor Yew said, though the certainty in her voice was draining away at the ugly sight.

"Okay," I replied, staring the beast down. I took a deep breath and readied myself.

"Rattata!" I cried as I waved and gestured towards the bowl. "Food!"

It then promptly charged into the bushes, causing an unholy cacophony of shrieks and squawks and the sound of the snapping of branches before it emerged, its foul jaws clamped around the neck of a dead Starly. Then, ignoring the bowl of water and the Poképellets with an air of disdain, it dragged the remains of the unfortunate Pokémon off to the relative shelter of one of Ma's garden benches and began to feast on its gristly meal.

Professor Yew immediately went a nice bright shade of green while I stared on in a mixture of horror and bile fascination.

"E-excuse me for a bit, eh..." Professor Yew moaned. "I think I've got t-to-"

She then turned to run for the bathroom, throwing the front door open with a crash and dashing for the stairs within. And so, she left me alone with the beast. And it truly was a beast, savagely ripping a wing off and consuming it with a maximum of bone crunching, wet and bloody noises.

Now, what was I supposed to do?

_"Speak in a calm, soothing manner. And don't move too quickly._" Professor Yew's initial advice repeated itself in my mind.

"Well, its you and me, then," I said to it, taking a slow step towards the monstrosity as it regarded me over its bloody meal with madness filled eyes. "You're gonna have to listen to me, okay? I'm not going to hurt you," I continued as I stepped closer and closer.

It was sensible enough advice – but only for your regular friendly Pokémon. And definitely not plague ridden, raged filled evil little rats. I took a step to far, stepping a little to close in proximity to it. And then without warning, the rat hurled its meal aside with a shriek of rage, its eyes narrowed into slits of pure evil. In a flash, it charged, hurling itself against me with all the force of a small, berserk typhoon and sending myself sprawling into the grass with a yell.

And then, looking up, I found myself in the same situation I had been in that very morning in Professor Yew's house: with the damned rat pinning me down by squatting squarely on my chest and snarling and snapping and dribbling in my face. With its sharp teeth snapping mere millimeters from my face, I did only what I could in those circumstances.

Which was to yell for help.

And soon enough, reinforcements arrived in the form of Ma. The front door was thrown open with a crash and her voice demanded to know what was all the noise about.

With a scowl on her face, Ma leaned over and grabbed the foul rat's tail, tightly enough for it to shriek in rage and struggle for all it was worth. Which continued until Ma casually tossed the flailing creature aside, with an expression on her face that spoke of merely mild irritation. It hit the grass with a muffled thump, rolling and shrieking until, in an act that would make Professor Yew protest in outrage (had she dared). Ma casually stepped onto it, her flip-flops pinning the creature to the cold earth.

I would have thought that it would continued its futile struggle, but It fell silent immediately, falling limp and motionless.

Playing dead, I assumed, which was rather smart of it.

Now you see what I mean when I say I could not emulate Ma. How in the world I was going to do something like that, I would like to know.

"You alright there, dear?" Ma called.

"Yes, Ma," I answered quickly, pulling myself to my feet.

"But you need another bath," she continued, as she looked me over with a look of distaste on her face. "Recall the Rattata and then lets call it a day."

"Yes, Ma..." There was not much point in arguing.

"But before that, clean up that mess," Ma added.

I directed my attention to where Ma was looking. Right over to the sodden pile of bloodied feathers and other assorted parts that I was sure were supposed to be _inside _the Pokémon and not steaming gently in the chill air.

"I'll get you a pair of rubber gloves," Ma added helpfully. Thanks, Ma.

Needless to say, by the time I had gotten rid of it and hosed down the area of feathers and fluid, it had gotten a little too late for any more training. It did do wonders for my unusual confidence boost though. Very few things in life can shave down over-confidence faster than shoveling the stinking remains of half-eaten Starly into plastic bags.

So, with nothing to show for it except for a bag full of '_bits_' and a set of very chewed up running shoes, I decided to get some advice. Not from Ma, who somehow easily inspired zealous compliance from her Pokémon and the rat, and not from Professor Yew either, who's expertise lay more in studying Pokémon rather than training them.

Which brought me back to why I was in my room and my computer and was why I was logging onto the fan-club chat in search of the Pres.

As I mentioned above, the Pres was a neighbor of mine who moved to Jubelife two years back – merely a year after he moved into my own sleepy little town in the first place.

So, understandably, I've always found him a little odd for several reasons. For one, he was four years my senior and had moved to Sinnoh with his parents and younger brother after completing his trainer's journey in Hoenn. Which meant that he was rather tanned in comparison to most of Sinnoh's people. In addition, I think that he and his family arrived around the time when there had been this big media frenzy over those two eco-terrorist groups Teams Magma and Aqua, a fact which he gleefully brought up at every given opportunity.

And what a strange year it was. With him around, it seem that the whole time was a crash-course introduction to all things that were fandom. In fact, he got the two of us, both my rival and I, to watch the Pokémon dramas in the first place. And then he moved, disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared.

And then, finally revealing his grand appearance as fan-club president not two weeks ago.

Anyways, I ignored the vile chittering emanating from beneath my desk and logged on into the fan club's forums. A site the Pres had set up at his own expense. His family was somewhat affluent in their own right and he could afford it, but the chat function was slow to load as usual, though that was probably due to my poor connection, rather than anything else.

As usual, there was a flashing banner where the latest 'news' and 'headlines' and I use these terms in the loosest sense, scrolled across the screen in attention grabbing fluorescent neon colors. Most of it was, in actual fact, gossip about the idol of the fan-club and other rumors derived from various tabloids. Things like the series of bloody accidents that shut down the battle subway in Isshu-Unova and other things only the President would find interesting.

Legendaries and Conspiracies.

And the centerpiece of all this was actual photo of a ' legendary white dragon' and a supposed 'Celebi' taken by the Pres himself which looked suspiciously like a Charizard painted or shopped white while covered in feathers and a stuffed toy respectively.

Coincidentally, the President's Da did own a Charizard. And his retarded little brother dragged around a stuffed Pokédoll wherever he went...

I drummed my fingers against the computer table as the chat window opened. A white backgrounded box in the middle of my screen in which the nicknames of the members online scrolled down the side. I looked up and down carefully in case of lag, but there was nothing to be seen.

His online handle was invariably _El-Presidente_, and it was no where in sight. Even the rather less flamboyant but ever present '_eveningcoffee_' wasn't there. Which meant that even the site's moderator wasn't online at the time.

Which I should have expected.

You see, most of the members of the Hikari fan-club were people my age. Fanboys and fangirls, sure, but no matter how big a fan one was, the tantalizing call of adventure always beckoned - which meant they would have been going on their first trainer journeys. Or in the case of the Pres or my other seniors, they would be probably going on vacation or taking the chance to continue where they had left off in their journeys.

And so I sat there and wondered why I was thinking so slowly today. And counted my options, of course.

But I was feeling very apathetic at that point. And I think that its understandable, seeing that all my efforts on that evil rat go to waste and the friends that I had been looking for all gone, leaving me alone with Ma and a stinking rat and also Professor Yew who had again collapsed on the sofa. The atmosphere was quite moody to say the least and the rat loose in my room didn't help things.

In a sense, I was back where I had started, reading gossip off the internet. Things like,

And then, out of absolutely no where, Bam! Plot Hook. Coincidence. Fate. Whatever.

No, really. I was sitting there, contemplating about strangling the rat and calculating if I could perform the deed unscathed. All the whilst having fallen back onto the usual mindless activity to satiate the emptiness within - surfing the internet aimlessly. All the while trying to ignore the increasingly agitated and horrific sounds the little monster kept making from beneath my desk.

And then, the familiar sound of a certain shows opening theme rang out.

Left virtually untouched since I had enshrined myself within my room, and unsullied by human or Pokémon for a grand total of two weeks, the not quite cutting edge model that was my cellphone rang, vibrated and then fell off my desk with an almighty crash.

It was sudden, and it snapped me out of my internet addled reverie and drew my attention to where it was on the floor – and the rat's attention as well. Two evil beady little eyes seemed to glow in the dark.

And the two of us went for it.

It emerged, hissing, spitting and snarling from its lair, hurling itself aloft in its furious charge. Whether it's intention was to attack my cellphone or to attack me, I cannot say, but it sure tried its best. It's jaws agape, descended upon the cellphone (or my hand that was reaching for it), fully intent to silence the annoyance with all the force it could muster.

But I was faster, or at least closer than the rat; I reached the cell phone first. My fingers grasped it just as it caught the phone strap in its jagged teeth, and it pulled hard. And I returned the favour, resisting its pull, with the phone still ringing and vibrating in my hand, managing to withstand the abuse stoically.

The rat stared me in the eye, hissing slightly over its mouthful of phone strap. Somehow it conveyed a message, of contempt and the like - and something inside me snapped.

I simply had enough of the stupid rat's nonsense.

It was fierce, and possibly mad and rabid, sure. But I was bigger than it, wasn't I? For all its gall, it was still a Rattata, after all.

"You stupid rat!" I said, defiantly, even as I pulled harder. I was not losing to a rat, not this time. Not with my phone at stake.

But the rat wasn't having that.

Perhaps it sensed a change, so it simply switched targets. Releasing its death's grip on the strap, its hellish maw clamped down on my hand instead. But I did not scream. In fact, as it savaged the skin on my hand, my other hand was at work, grasping towards the computer table, my movements fueled by a mixture of pain, adrenaline, anger and irritation. The previous two humiliations at its nasty little paws were still fresh in my mind.

And I was not going to let it happen this time.

My free hand found what it was grasping for, my fingers enclosing the Pokéball on the computer table. And as I did, the rat sensed the danger and released my bleeding hand, only to leap for my face instead. But it was too late. I was faster this time, having been subject to its howling pounces and charges more than once. And perhaps with slightly more force than necessary, I thumbed the retrieval mechanism and slammed the Pokéball down onto it and watched in satisfaction as it squealed and struggled even as it was drawn into the ball.

"Paws off my phone," I muttered, and brought the phone to my ears.

"Hello there, good evening..." A distinctively female voice came through the line. "Is this-"

"Who are you?" I interrupted, still high on adrenaline. "I just got a Rattata." I laughed.

"Right. Very good. A Rattata." The female voice paused for a second. "Is this-"

"It bit me."

"Never mind that. Please listen to me. You signed up at the fan-club two weeks ago. Is this correct? And you stay in the South-Western Sinnoh region?" She spoke again, this time louder. Asking if she had identified me with the correct online handle, confirming my name and such other questions.

"Y-yes?" I replied finally, wondering how she knew. "Who are you?"

She paused for breath. "You can call me Coffee. If you've been on the fan forums, then you will know that I am the moderator there."

Coffee? _Eveningcoffee? _Now that was something I really had not expected and it took a few seconds for the mental connection to be established.

"Eveningcoffee?" I repeated, this time aloud.

"That's the one."

At this point I was wondering what in the world was happening. So I sat there, with Coffee on the line and the rat's Pokéball rocking violently in my hand. What would she be calling for anyway? We fan-club members weren't particularly close to begin with.

And more about eveningcoffee. I suppose I've never written of her before, probably because our association had only began when I joined up with the fan club.

I had never met her face to face before, but from the Pres's description, she was some sort of a university student in Jubelife and also a couple of years older than him. Which in my opinion made her give off a particular ''older sister" kind of impression, though I could not confirm that, nor anyone else in the community. As dispersed as the Hikari fan club was, not many members actually met face to face, and to my knowledge, the only person who actually knew her was the president himself.

She was the de-facto second in command of the fan-club and supposedly the eldest of us all. Or at the very least, the eldest amongst the members who were willing to reveal their actual age, and also a prime example that even girls go after Hikari. Though the alternative theory that she joined up to keep the President in check out of a misguided sense of responsibility wasn't too far-fetched either.

But anyway, since we did not know her name, and with both the president and the moderator herself keeping mum on the matter, we ended up just calling her C_offee. _Creative, no? And as I mentioned above, she was amongst the last people I would expect to call up out of nowhere. Probably because our last communication had been a warning from her to me, for flaming another poster in the forums, but that's not important now.

"What's this about?" I asked. "Please don't say the fan club needs a donation."

"Rest assured," Coffee replied, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I am not soliciting you for donations. If it ever comes to that, I'll make sure President does it himself instead." Then there was a small cough over the line and when she spoke again, she was serious once more.

"Anyway, I'm calling to inform you of a fan-club event," she said simply and then continued before I could have a chance to butt in. Which was probably for the best, because at the time, I was about to say, '_I'm not paying for this_.'

"You are aware of the Sandgem Mini-tournament?" she asked.

"Er, no?"

"Good grief. Have you read the paper at all? Or the association web page?"

"No, not really," I replied, trying not to sound embarrassed. I was never much of a paper reader, and I had sworn off the Pokémon association anyway, supposedly for good. In my book they were a bunch of corrupt idiots.

''Oh never mind that, then," Coffee replied, a hint of admonishment in her voice. A bit like a smart elder sibling talking down to a younger one, so I thought. "Pleasr do read it up later."

"Sure," I replied somewhat half-heartedly. Tournaments were fine and all – if you had a competent team of Pokémon to lead you to victory. But all I had was a rat. "I'll take a look when I have the time."

"That won't do," Coffee interjected quickly. "The mini-tournament is this Saturday- that's three days away and the President wants to have a fan-club gathering in lieu with the tournament. He would have sent emails out to the members, but..."

"He forgot?"

"That's right," Coffee said, heaving a sigh over the line. "He rushed off to Canalave to pick up something and called me this morning - at five AM I might add, asking me to call every member I could. I would have sent emails but I know that you lot don't check your mailbox very often."

"Ah, yes. Email." Guilty as charged. My inbox hasndn't been checked for months.

"What was that about the tournament again?"

"A novice-level mini-tournament organized by the Sandgem Town Council and Professor Rowan. It's still endorsed by the association, though," Coffee explained. And then delivered the kicker. "Apparently they've got a _regional starter_ left over from the selection trials and they want to give a chance for the novice trainers to qualify for one."

Now that got my attention.

"What?" That was all I could say, but in contrast to my mouth, my mind was racing. Thinking hard, that perhaps, just perhaps my destiny to obtain one had not been derailed after all. But Coffee had mentioned 'tournament'. Which meant, one Pokémon and many aspirants. And rules. Always rules and qualifications.

"Do I qualify?" I asked hoarsely.

"Hmm, Don't rightly know," Coffee answered quickly. "You'll need to check the website to register. But the basic gist is that its a one-Pokémon tournament, for novice trainers under two badges. Com-mons and basics obedience and battle techniques only. So I suppose its more of a trainer evaluation than anything else."

She paused fo a second.

'But you probably qualify – it is geared towards new trainers after all.'

"I-I see..." I mumbled. This was it, my big break.

Even as Coffee prattled on about the fan-club gathering for the tournament, I was looking down at the rat's Pokéball in my hand. And I was thinking.

Could I, with this lump of malicious evil, have a chance at this?

"The meeting place is at the _Kouki family restaurant_. Take care till then," Coffee finally finished, but I barely heard her. I was looking towards my computer instead, my mind and enthusiasm renewed by this unexpected turn of events.

Tossing the Pokéball and catching it, I went back to the computer. I had work to do. Fate coincidence or whatever. I would not let this chance slip away.

And now, I've got to tell Ma and get packed.


End file.
